


Love Survives: A Walking Dead Fanfiction

by Haremfecker249



Series: Love Survives [1]
Category: 28 Days Later (2002), 28 Weeks Later (2007), The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:42:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27138859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haremfecker249/pseuds/Haremfecker249
Summary: The story of The Walking Dead. Except, something's different. The infected aren't rotting, they're living, breathing people. They run. And all it takes to infect you is a single drop of blood. Then you'd better hope you're a Carrier, otherwise, you've got two days at the most before you become one of THEM.Basically, it's The Walking Dead with the Rage Virus from 28 Days Later and 28 Weeks Later. This will have characters from the comics, TV Show, Fear TWD, Survival Instinct game, Overkill's game, Telltale Games, Dead Reckoning game, and the Saints and Sinners game, along with some original characters.
Series: Love Survives [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980955
Kudos: 2





	1. Intro: How It Spread

On November 1, 2006, the world was introduced to a new threat: The Rage Virus. Created by scientists at Cambridge in England, it was released and spread throughout mainland England as well as reaching Scotland. On January 5, 2007, it was revealed that most of the infected in England were either dead or dying of starvation. On May 26, 2007, English Reconstruction begins as the Isle of Dogs receives its first group of refugees. 

On July 4, 2007, a second outbreak of the Rage Virus occurred in the Isle of Dogs, killing or infecting most of the refugees and military personnel stationed there. This outbreak also revealed the existence of Carriers, people who can contract and spread the virus but don’t show the symptoms. From the Isle of Dogs, the virus spread to France, allowing Europe, Asia, and Africa to become overrun in a matter of months. Cases also started popping up in Australia, but it's probably fine there. It's _Australia_. They deal with worse on a daily basis.

Then the virus spread to the United States of America, allowing the infection to spread throughout North and South America, leaving Antarctica as the only place safe from the infected.

And thus, the story begins…


	2. Episode 1: Days Gone Bye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After getting shot in a gunfight, Rick Grimes is put in a coma. When he wakes up, he finds that his hometown has been devastated by a strange virus.

The man turns the car off, the beeping from the dashboard silencing. He sighs, rubbing his forehead. The hat on his head shifts as he steps out of the cruiser. He fixes it and walks around to the back of the car, grabbing a fuel can from the trunk. He starts down the hill toward the gas station, looking around, confused. That smell… it makes his stomach turn. He instantly recognizes the smell: corpses. A few cars are scattered around, likely the aftermath of a picnic or gathering between family and friends. Inside the cars, bloodied bodies lay limp, flies gathering around them. He lets out an uneasy breath. How had something like this happened without anybody knowing? He continues toward the gas station, a ready hand resting on his sidearm: a .357 Magnum Colt Python revolver.  
Reaching the gas station, he looks up at a sign hanging above the door, swinging back and forth, hitting the wall each time. He lets out a huff as he reads it: “NO GAS”. He scratches his nose but turns at the sound of a scream. Dropping the gas can, he runs toward the sound to see two little girls, one struggling to keep the other from attacking her.  
“Hey!” he shouts, and the attacking girl turns toward him. Her eyes are blood red, and she appears to be bleeding from her eyes, nose, and mouth. She lets out a growl and runs toward him. “Stop!” he orders, but the girl ignores him, running at full speed. Suddenly, she doubles over, vomiting blood onto the ground before resuming her charge. Just before she can grab him, he instinctively draws his sidearm and fires, the bullet hitting her between the eyes. She falls backward onto the ground, dead. He swallows harshly, shakily lowering the gun.   
“Rick!” the remaining girl calls, running toward him. He relaxes when he sees her, kneeling down.  
“Emma, what are you doing here?” he asks.  
“Something’s going on at my school. Everyone was sick, just like her. So, I came here looking for help, and she attacked me,” she explains. He rises to his feet.  
“Alright. Let’s go get you to a hospital to get checked out. I’ll call this in,” he says, and they head back to the car.

…

“What’s the difference between men and women?” Rick asks, looking over at his partner, Shane.  
“Seriously?” Shane asks, cocking an eyebrow, popping a French fry into his mouth.  
“Seriously,” Rick confirms, doing the same.  
“Well, I’ve never met a girl who could turn out the light. They’re born thinking that the switch only goes one way: on. Every woman, everywhere, I’ve met, I swear to God. House all lit up, it’s my job, apparently, because the Chromosomes happen to be different. So I walk through the house, turning off every, single, light that this bitch has left on.”  
“Is that right?”  
“Yeah.” Rick gives him a look and Shane smiles. “Well, Shane’s a-preaching to you now, boy. Then, this same chick, mind you, she’ll bitch about global warming. This woman, Reverend Shane wants to quote from the God Gospel and say, um… ‘darling, maybe you and every other pair of boobs on this planet just figured out that this light switch, see, it goes both ways. Maybe we wouldn’t have so much global warming.’”  
“You say that?” Rick asks, the corner of his lips turning up into a smile.  
“Well, a… polite version. But that earns me this look of just… loathing that you would not believe. That’s when the Exorcist voice pops out. ‘You sound just like my damn fatherrr! Always yelling about the power bill, telling me to turn off the damn lights!’”  
“And what’d you say to that?”  
“Well, what I want to say, I want to say ‘bitch, you tell me that you’ve been hearing this shit your entire life and you are still too damn stupid to learn how to turn off the switch?’” The two officers let out a collective chuckle at that. “You know, I wouldn’t actually say that, though.”  
“That would be bad.”  
“Yeah, I go with the polite version.”  
“Very. Wise,” Rick comments. The two are suddenly interrupted by a voice over their radios.  
“Caution, we have a 10-32 in progress at the intersection for Peachtree and Malcolm,” the voice announces. The two men pack up their food as Rick starts the car up, driving toward the shots being fired.

They arrive to find a bearded man with a double-barreled shotgun.  
“Shit, that’s Reggie,” Rick mumbles.  
“Damnit, when they built that prison the next county over, I didn’t figure that we’d be getting all of their escapees,” Shane grumbles, grabbing his Mossberg 590. The two exit the car, Rick also drawing his sidearm.  
“Reggie! Just put the gun down, you don’t need to do this!” he shouts. The man turns toward them, firing. The officers duck down behind their cruiser.  
“I ain’t going back! I’ll die first!” Reggie announces.  
“It doesn’t have to go that way, just put the gun down!” Rick is answered by yet another shot. He looks over at Shane, who pops the bones in his neck.  
“Guess it’s going to be just one of those days,” the officer remarks. Rick swallows, looking around.  
“Alright, I’m going to circle around there to the right. Cover me,” he explains. Shane nods and rises to his feet, firing at Reggie. Rick takes the opportunity to move. Suddenly, there’s another shot. Rick turns back to see Shane crouched behind the car, gripping his bleeding bicep. The two lock eyes and Rick suddenly goes down, falling onto his back. Pain runs through his body, making him cry out. Blood soaks through his shirt.  
“RICK!” Shane shouts, his voice echoing in Rick’s mind as the latter starts passing out. The last thing he hears before everything goes black was the sounds of gunfire and Shane yelling at Lambert, a fellow officer, to call an ambulance.

Then, it all comes back. Rick opens his eyes, letting out a loud gasp. He squints his eyes, his senses being assaulted by the white of the hospital room. He coughs and looks around as his eyes adjust. A pot of flowers sit on the desk next to his bed, the flowers wilted. A clock sits on the wall above the door, the hands had stopped working. The man pulls the cords connecting him to the machines around him from his body, moving to get up. Immediately, he falls to the ground with a grunt.  
“Nurse, help!” he calls out, the wind knocked out of him. “Nurse! Help!” he shouts again. No answer. He reaches up and grabs the small panel, pressing the button for the nurse’s station, but it’s unresponsive. “Power’s out…” he mumbles before noticing the dresser drawer. He pulls it open, finding a fresh set of clothes, which he promptly puts on. Just a simple white t-shirt, jeans, his belt, white socks, and tennis shoes. He makes his way into the bathroom, examining himself in the mirror before turning the faucet on and bringing the water to his mouth.  
He pulls the door open, poking his head out into the hallway to look around. The hospital looks deserted. He pushes away a gurney that was pushed in front of the door and makes his way down the hall.  
“Hello?” he calls out, his voice echoing through the empty halls of the hospital. “Anybody?” No answer. He lets out a sigh, a shiver running down his spine.   
What happened here?   
He reaches the nurse’s station and looks around. The station is dark, the power has gone out. He picks up the phone, pressing numbers randomly, but sets the phone back down when there’s no dial tone. He grabs a box of matches, stuffing them into his pocket before continuing down the hall. Blood splatters and bullet holes decorate the walls, pools of blood, and trash litter the floor. Finally, he makes it to the end of the hall, with the hallway continuing both to the left and right. In front of him sits a set of double doors, chained together with a wooden 2x4 stuck through the handles to keep them closed. On the doors, somebody seems to have written in blood:  
DON’T DEAD  
OPEN INSIDE  
Rick furrows his eyebrows in confusion. Why the Hell did these people write it like that? Suddenly, there’s a shriek as whatever’s on the other side of the door starts banging on it, trying to force it open. The doors are held shut by the 2x4 and chain. Rick looks through the opening from where he is and gasps, his eyes widening. Inside is a woman, struggling frantically to get out. A pair of trails of dried blood run down her face from her bloodshot eyes. She locks eyes with Rick, and he sees a look of pure rage. She doubles over and vomits blood. Rick swallows harshly and stumbles away from the door, bursting through the hospital’s entrance.  
He leans against the doors, having closed them, trying to steady his heartbeat. That woman’s face, the way she vomited blood…   
Just like that little girl who attacked Emmalise.  
Whatever that girl had, it’s spread. Rick looks around, pushing himself away from the doors and toward the hill. He looks down the hill and his eyes widen in horror. What must be nearly a hundred bodies lay at the bottom of the hill, organized into rows. He starts walking away from the scene, passing a sign reading “Harrison Memorial Hospital”.  
I need to get home.  
He cuts through the park but stops once reaching the path. He looks around, eyebrows furrowed. It’s silent, no sign of any life. He grabs a bike from the ground, a sigh escaping him as he climbs on. A groan draws his attention to the ground. A woman stares up at him with bloodshot eyes, swiping at him. Rick lets out a yelp, falling over to the opposite side of the path. The woman coughs up blood before fixing her animalistic gaze on him again. She crawls toward him, her legs crushed by something, like she had been run over. Rick quickly grabs the bike and takes off, hopping onto the bike after a running start and pedaling away.  
He stops in front of his house, swallowing when he sees the door open slightly. He lets the bike fall to the road, running up to the doorway and poking his head inside. “Claire? Carl? Emma?” he calls out, shutting the door behind him as he lets out a shaky sigh, running his hand along his stubbling face. “Clarisse!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, expecting something back. Something, anything! But the sheriff was only greeted by the sound of frightening silence.

Except for rustling upstairs that caught his attention..sounded like some kind of scrambling from the upstairs master bedroom. Like someone was... running.   
“H… Hello?” he calls out, stepping toward the staircase, but only to be greeted with the sound of silence. He huffed, walking toward his kitchen to retrieve a weapon. He grabs a french knife from the block, clenching his hand around the handle as he slowly makes his way up the stairs, his blood already running cold. God damn it, his mind growled. You could’a stopped by the sheriff’s department your way down here, isn’t that right? But you didn’t, now look at your current predicament. 

He wanted to not enter the room, knowing anything could be up there, just, waiting. Waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike, and well, he could most likely fight back. He made his way up the stairs, surprised by his silence overcoming him. He pressed his ear against the door, hearing something inside again. 

You are a true dumbass, you are asking to get killed.

Well, hey, from what he’s seen, it already looked like it was quickly falling apart! So why does he care? He opened the door, turning his head at the sound of..crying? It seemed to have calmed his nerves a bit, realizing it was one of a child’s, due to the tone. And he was right.

The small child he suspected was under the covers-clearly not hidden since you could see the outline of a little kid under the blankets. His grip quickly untightened around it, but did not drop it like it clearly wanted..if it was something else hiding underneath it, he wanted to be prepared. So, he ripped the covers off, revealing..Emmalise? His eyes widened, then softened and threw it aside when she let out a small scream, head buried underneath the pillow as..some kind of way to muffle the noise? Or muffle her own, he didn’t understand what went through in her childish mind.

“Emmalise?” Rick whispered, and she immediately pulled her head away, gazing up at him with tear-dried cheeks. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath, gently taking her hand and pulling her closer, using his other hand to wipe her cheeks. “What are you doing in here?”

“You’re Dead!” She sobbed, completely unanswering his question.  
“Not yet, a bullet can’t take down your old man,” he smiled, but it was mostly forced to make her smile. She almost instantly lunged forward to tackle him into a hug, which he almost greedily returned. “Hey, hey, don’t cry, honey..im here, I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, running his fingers through her tangled mess. “They chased me..had to..h-hide..” she whimpered, clinging onto his shirt. Why did this feel more like a dream? Something that shouldn’t be happening but she was experiencing it? She winced however when he tried to.

“We gotta comb that monster,”  
“Oh no, no no no, please,” she whimpered, immediately shaking her head in refusal.  
“Emma. We have to brush your hair, it’s a mess.”  
“No, no we don’t,” she answered, moving back into bed and pulling the covers over herself again. 

He rolled his eyes and took it off, lifting her up and taking her to the bathroom, her struggles doing little to nothing to the old sheriff. He sets her down on the chair in the room before digging through a shelf drawer and fishing out a hair brush, the child attempting to run, but he grabbed her arm-a bit rough, but not too rough. Enough to get the message clear. Stay still. He then pulled her back onto the chair, her whimpers never ceasing. 

It took close to thirty five minutes. Mostly because she was squirming, making it near impossible to actually comb through, but he managed. Maybe it’s because he was naturally rough, unlike Clarisse who was as gentle as gentle can be. Maybe that’s why the kids always preferred her over him for mostly everything, and he was fine with it.   
“See? Was that so bad?” Rick asks, looking down at the child.  
“Yes,” she responds with a scowl.   
“Most of it was because you wouldn’t hold still during it.”  
“It hurt, my head is sensitive.” She complained, and he just shook his head.   
“C’mon..guess we’re together now..” he said quietly, and she nodded slowly.   
“Let’s not go find daddy,” she whispered, tears forming in her eyes. He tilted his head down at her, but gave her a, “sure” and lifted her into his arms.   
“Uncle Daddy... there are these weird people wandering around, they follow people, and when they catch them, they try to... do things to you. It’s gross. I watched a girl get eaten alive. I ran into your house for cover, I didn’t want them to see me.”   
He slowly nodded, keeping that in mind as he took her downstairs and out of the house.  
“I want mama,” she whispered as he put her down on the porch steps of his house, telling her to stay where she was, noticing a man in the distance. Maybe he could give him some answers he needed?  
But, she was smart, and immediately shook her head. “No, back,” she says, trying to pull him back toward her. She didn’t trust it.  
“I’ll be fine, Emma. I’m just going to ask him some questions,” he reassures her. With that, he walks away from her and toward the man. Suddenly, he’s knocked to the ground, having been hit in the face with something hard. He rolls over, looking up at a little boy around his son’s age, holding a shovel.  
“Carl, I found you,” he mumbles.  
“What was that?” a man asks, shooting the infected in the head and walking toward them.  
“He called me Carl!” the boy announces.  
“Uncle!” She screamed, alerting the two of her presence as she ran over- but Morgan pressed the gun against her head.  
“Check her for any wounds, Duane.”  
She eyed it with wide tearful eyes, holding her hands up in surrender. “Don’t hurt me or uncle daddy,” she whimpered, tears falling down her face.   
“What type of wound?” Morgan growled, and she shook her head. “A-a head bump!” She answered, and he cocked it toward Rick, who was watching them with a dazed expression, barely still conscious. “Why is he bandaged up?” “He got hurt really bad. One of these things shot him, please, don’t hurt him!” Morgan tilted his head to the side a bit, then nodded in somewhat satisfaction. “Duane, do me a favor and help this little girl to the house,”  
Rick mumbled something under his breath before he finally slipped unconscious. Emma on the other hand, was nervous and persistent whenever he tried to grab a hold of her, but eventually, when Morgan had begun to take Rick to the house, Emma ran after the three-really just because these mean people were taking him away! And she just got him back! That wasn’t fair, right? She didn’t think so.

Rick’s eyes flutter open, looking around. He’s in a bedroom, and the bed would be comfortable if he didn’t have his hands tied to the headboard. The man from earlier sits in the chair, watching him, Emma curled up into his side.  
“Do you have a habit of watching people while they sleep?” Rick asks, still trying to wake up.  
“I cleaned your wound,” he announces. “What happened?”  
“I was shot.”  
“What else?”  
“Gunshots not good enough?” The man scoots forward.  
“Were. You. Bit?” he questions.  
“Bit?”  
“Bit. Any conact with their blood? That’s how it’s spread.”  
“How what is spread?”  
Morgan furrowed his eyebrows down at him, raising his hand, and Rick and Emma flinched. “You can go, little girl.”  
“You hurt my uncle daddy so I stay,”  
Morgan was positive he heard a muffled laugh come from his son.   
“You’re cold enough. The fever would have knocked you out by now.”  
“If the shovel hadn’t done so already,” Rick sassed under his breath. “Can you cut me free now?” Morgan lets out a huff.  
“I can see that you’re not infected. But if you show any signs of turning, I will drive this through your skull. Do you understand me?” the man asks, brandishing a knife. Rick, still not knowing what the Hell is going on, nods. Satisfied, the man cuts through the restraints.  
“I’m Rick, by the way.”  
“Morgan. Now when you’re strong enough, come on down.” With that, Morgan and Duane retreat down the stairs, leaving Emmalise and Rick together.   
“Come on daddy, let’s not waste any time,” she whispered, grabbing his hand and helping him out of bed. He still had that slight limp, but he could manage.   
“I’m not your father Emmalise, you know that.”  
She frowned, shaking her head. “But..”  
“No buts. Just call me Uncle, I don’t feel that happy taking that title-“  
“Okay,” she muttered, letting go and heading down the stairs. Rick stands there a moment, gaining his bearings, and starts down the stairs after the three.  
He finds them gathered around a dinner table, four plates of spaghetti set down. Rick limps into the kitchen, looking around at them.  
“Well? How about you sit down before you fall down,” Morgan says, and Rick does so, taking his place at he empty spot. The four start eating, and it hits Rick just how hungry he’s been. Since he’s woken up, he’s been too scared to actually think about food.  
“Do you even know what’s going on?” Morgan asks.  
“You shot a man,” Rick said simply.   
“It’s not a man,” Duane spoke up.  
“Yeah, they are gross weird people,” Emma spoke up again, and the boy turned to her with a small smile. “Did we even get your name?”  
“Emmalise Greene. She’s the daughter of a old friend of mine..her only daughter. I found her in my house, hiding under my blankets and pillows. Until I find her, and my children, she’s my responsibility.” Rick spoke up.  
“Just call me Emma,” she chims in.  
“So these weird people… they look human,” Rick notices.  
“They were, once. Now they’re like animals. Attack anything that’s not one of them.”  
“They’re out there right now?”  
“Yeah. I shouldn’t have fired that gun today..” he muttered under his breath, looking through the blinds for a moment before turning to them. “Attracted multiple unwanted visitors here, they’re usually not that active during the night… Best thing we can do is stay quiet. They’ll probably wander off by morning.”  
“Shouldn’t we lock and border everything up?” Emma asked, but Duane cut her off. “You’re too young, me and daddy will deal with it after we’re done.”  
“I’ll go lock the door,” the toddler spoke anyway, Rick watching her go to the front door and turn it locked. He didn’t peel away until she was sat back down, and became less tense again.  
“I woke up today, in a hospital,” Rick began, answering Morgan’s earlier question. “Came home, all I know.” He answered honestly, gazing up toward the two.  
“But you saw the dead people right?” Morgan asked, earning a nod from the sheriff.   
“Yeah, I saw a lot of that..on the loading docks-“  
“No, not the ones that they put down.” Morgan interrupted. “The ones they didn’t. The infected. If we hadn’t act sooner..that man you thought was a man, would have ripped you open, ate your flesh. Would have attacked Emma too.”   
“So… how long has it been like this?” Rick questions, looking around.  
“Cases started showing up about a month back.” Rick freezes. That’s around the time he was shot. He slept through all of it?  
“I..a week before Uncle was shot, a..classmate of mine tried to kill me. I got lost, but Uncle saved me. She looked..different.”  
“Eyes blood red?”  
She nodded.  
“What was the wound?”  
“Multiple gunshots, a torn mouth,” Rick spoke up, remembering it just as well as Emma did, the sheriff running his hand on her shoulder to calm her down. “He-he shot her in the head and she stopped trying to hurt us,” She finished.   
“There is one thing we do know. Don’t get bit. That’s what gets you. Or some of their blood into you. We saw your bandage and that’s what worried us,” Morgan explains. They continue eating.  
“... We seen it happen,” Duane mumbles, making Rick stop and look at him.  
“How?” He whispered, his full attention onto Duane now.   
“My mom. She was bit and we had to come here so she could rest. It… didn’t help. She turned, and we had to let her go.”  
Emma looked at the table now sadly, realizing that her mom could possibly be dead, right now. The rest of the meal was ate in silence. 

The next thirty minutes involved Morgan and Duane making a homemade bed for Emma and Rick-who they just learned was a police officer, knowing that Emma seemed to prefer being next to Rick at all times, which was understandable, since Duane was the same with Morgan at this point.   
Rick kneeled beside her, tucking the smaller human to sleep, which was a bit difficult, since it wasn’t easy for her to fall asleep.  
“It’s late,” he whispered, holding her hand.  
“But it’s so quiet..and scary,” she mumbles, shaking.  
“How’d you sleep in my house with nobody with you then?”  
“Because I had a portrait of you and aunt Lori, Judy and Carl, beside me. Made me feel a bit better, like I’d find you again,”  
“Well, you did. Get some sleep, Princess, I’ll join you in a little bit,”  
“Where are you going?” She pouted.   
“Nowhere sweetheart, just staying on watch,” he assured her, kissing her forehead. She shakily nodded, turning onto her side. But, she eventually shook her head. “We’re safe here! Please, come snuggle with me,” she begged, and he eventually sighed and nodded, turning around and walking over, laying beside her, making her immediately roll over and cling onto him.  
“Tired now?”  
“Mhm,” she muttered, slipping into a light sleep. He just chuckled and ran his hand through her hair, kissing her head again. It took a while for him to pass out, due to his paranoia, but he did eventually. 

The morning comes, and the two wake to find Morgan and Duane already getting ready for the day.  
“Damn, do you two not sleep?” Rick mumbles.  
“I figured you wouldn’t be able to sleep after doing it for a full month,” Morgan replies, smiling.  
Emma lets out a small groan, burying her face into his chest, still exhausted. Rick rolls his eyes with a small grin, lifting her in his arms. “She still tired?” Morgan asked, and he just nodded. “She’s never enjoyed waking up in the morning,” Rick answered.   
Everyone was cautious when they exited the house, realizing this was all a huge risk..as Morgan had said the previous night, they were all more active than usual. It was a risk, taking Rick out to show him how to deal with things, it was a risk going into his house to hunt for clues, it was a risk just stepping onto the porch, but it was one they were all willing to take. The adults all had a weapon on them, Morgan with a crowbar and Rick borrowing the boy’s bat, however the children stayed back on the porch, not daring when they saw an infected sitting against the fence.  
It saw Rick quickly, approaching him with heavy snarls, but Rick was faster.  
Emma flinched and grimaced when Rick struck it with heavy, brutal strokes of the bat until it was on the ground, twitching, head smashed, skull split. Rick struck it one final time until it became limp on the ground, the sheriff letting out heavy pants, trying to figure out how he felt about this entire thing. 

Emma rushed over, and the male hoistered her over the deceased corpse, and onto the street. “Daddy?”  
“I don’t feel a thing,” Rick muttered to Morgan, bat now hanging loosely in his hand, by his side.  
“Good. Because you’re going to have to do this daily to survive,” Morgan admits. “Now let’s get back to your house.”  
The walk down the street is uneventful. Regardless, the four are constantly looking over their shoulders for an infected.  
As they approached Rick’s block, he pointed to his house, asking if they had seen anybody there. They all shook their heads.  
“Area’s been pretty deserted by the time we got here. Saw a few people scurry out, but they seemed to be in a hurry. Hadn’t seen anyone since then,” Morgan answered. Rick let that sit for a moment before he entered the disaster that was his home.   
“They’re alive,” Rick mumbles.  
“How can you tell?” Morgan asks, leaning in the doorframe.  
“They packed clothes.”  
“Anyone could have broken in and taken clothes.”  
“And would those people break in for photos? Walls used to be covered in picture frames. Photo albums are gone too.” Morgan lets out a laugh as Rick finishes.  
“Photo albums. Jenny was the same way. Even though we were gathering supplies to survive, she insisted on bringing photo albums. For the memories, she would say.”  
Rick slowly nodded, turning to Emma with a small smile. “We just need to find out where they went then. Then we’ll find mommy,” he spoke softly, and she grinned wildly. “They didn’t take everything. Just enough for somewhere to travel,” Rick spoke.  
“They left with Shane. He said something about… Atlanta?” Emma chimes in, and Rick turns to her, nodding. “How far is Atlanta from here, uncle?” Emma asked, now confused.  
“Two states away.” He answered, feeling hope for the first time since he woke up a day ago. Rick grabs a key ring from a bowl on the counter in the kitchen. “But first, we need to make a stop.”  
The four arrive at their destination: the police station. More specifically, the King County station, where Rick would sign in every day, since, after all, he was a deputy. They use Rick’s key to open a back door. The door creaks open, and they are greeted by the sound of running footsteps. An infected runs at them from the darkness, making the children retreat behind Rick and Morgan-Emma the only one who let out a small scream. Rick snatches the knife from the child, shoving it through its jaw when it got close enough to them.  
“You know him?” Morgan asks.  
“Lambert Kendal, another officer here,” he answered, shoving his past friend onto the ground with a small frown. The four continue inside, Rick leading them into the locker rooms, and Emma nearly froze when he was leading them to a shower room.  
“Please tell me that there’s one that’s not completely out in the open!” She whined, already feeling her anxiety kick in. “What, wait outside for us to finish then you do yours?  
“Boys take forever!” She huffed, sitting down on the cold bench. Rick lets out a little chuckle before the three males enter the shower room, Morgan and Duane expressing their happiness vocally.  
Emma just smiled from outside, hearing their happy laughs. Almost completely forgetting about the threat from him she’d been living with for so long, forgetting about the thought that she’d never see her family again..more she focused on it, the less happy she became again. She sighed deeply, hugging herself, becoming more nervous and paranoid as time went on.   
Almost not hearing them enter, but when she saw the door open and the three exiting, Rick freshly shaven, she ran past them, barely dodging Rick’s grasp and closed the door behind her, taking a quick shower. Now, she didn’t even want to leave to Atlanta, what if he was still there?   
“Emma,” Rick spoke up, Duane and Morgan already outside, Rick haven just gotten back dressed in his uniform. She kept her head low, not wanting anyone to worry, or find out.   
“I’m fine,” she grumbled, smacking his hand away, looking up at him with a sigh. “I’ve just been thinking,” she shrugged, grabbing his hand now.  
They make their way toward the station’s armory, Morgan and Duane having joined them. Rick unlocks it, giving them access to the guns inside. Duane wanted to learn how to shoot, reasoning he was old enough to learn how, and his father reassured him he will, but it’d take time. Rick told him it wasn’t a toy, and only use it if it’s needed. Rick handed Morgan a bolt action rifle with a scope, and handed it to Morgan, so he could put his wife to rest at a distance. Emma admired him for that.   
“Take a few guns for yourselves. When you’re done, meet Emma and I back outside. Get something else for you,” Rick says, closing a duffel bag full of guns and walking out, the young girl in tow.  
A few minutes pass by, and the door swings open, Morgan and Duane exiting with their guns.  
“So what did you have to show us?” Morgan asks.  
“You can take the cruiser on the left. If Emma and I are going to make it all the way to Atlanta, we’re going to need the better one,” Rick explains.  
“What? Wait, hold on-”  
“It’s nothing, Morgan. You helped us out. This is me repaying you. Now when things are cleaned up after all this is over, you’re going to have to give it back so try not to bang it up too much or put too many miles on it.”  
“Rick, we can’t accept this.”  
“Morgan, relax. I’m just doing my job. With the current state of things, I’d say that this is the best way to protect and serve that I can do right now.”  
Morgan gave him a small smile and patted his shoulder. “Thank you, Rick.”  
Rick returned the small smile and nodded, holding his hand out for the child to take. His other hand dived into the car, and pulled out a walkie talkie. He turned it on for a moment, receiving a healthy dose of static, then turned it off and passed it to Morgan.   
“You got one battery. I’ll turn mine on every day at dawn. You get up there, that’s how you find me.”   
“You think ahead,” Morgan commented.  
“Can’t afford not to. Not anymore.” Rick answered.   
“Listen, one more thing.” Morgan spoke, and Rick turned to look at him. “They may not seem like much, one at a time, but in a group? All hungry and riled up? You watch your ass.”   
Offering his hand, Morgan spoke. “You’re a good man, Rick. I hope you find your friend and your two kids.” He turned to Emma and knelt down in front of her, taking her hands. “You listen to your old man and don’t get into any trouble. I know your mother is with them, waiting for you. Don’t lose hope, little girl,” Morgan spoke, and Emma just smiled and gave him a small nod, agreeing to what he told her. He stood up and dusted off his jeans, and turned to his son. They all said their goodbyes when Emma’s gaze shifted suddenly. The three turn, and Rick just mentally groaned at the sight. Another turned deputy trying to force his way through the gate. Clinging to it, fingers poking through, groaning and moaning. Sickened, Rick pulled out a .357 Magnum, aimed, and shot him in the head, watching it stumble around for a bit, then it collapsed on the ground, dead.   
Finally, they separated, Emma silently sinking into the passenger seat of the car as they drove away. She bit her lip harshly, turning a bit so she was watching the trees zoom by..no reason to follow the speed limit anymore. He rubbed her knee. “We’re gonna be fine. We’re in this together, Emmy.” He said softly, and she frowned. “When we find mama you won’t want anything to do with me anymore.” She said sadly, still not turning to face him.   
“Hey, what makes you think that?”  
“I just know it,” she whispered, tears sliding down her cheeks. Rick’s hands clenched around the wheel, then eventually slowed down. “Come on, you can rest against me until we get there,”   
Emma gave him a small nod, climbing over and laying against him. “You might not be my child but I care about you enough to think of you as a daughter, that’s never gonna change. Alright? Now wipe that frown off your face, you know I don’t like seeing you sad,” he spoke softly, wiping her tears away, and she just sniffles, burying her face into his stomach as he continued driving toward Atalanta, in silence again.


End file.
